


let the fire get higher

by Crollalanza



Series: The Captain and his Vice [16]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fingering, M/M, Sexual Content, Underwear Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 06:10:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3518360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daichi never realised that a joke present for his boyfriend's twentieth birthday could have such eye-opening consequences. </p><p>But then Suga has always loved the way things feel ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	let the fire get higher

**Author's Note:**

> Um, I blame Noemi for this and her damned headcanons (that's not supposed to be a pun)
> 
> The song referenced is Abracadabra by The Steve Miller Band

_"I feel the magic in your caress._  
_I feel magic when I touch your dress._  
_Silk and satin, leather and lace,_  
_Black panties with an angel's face."_

 

It started ordinarily enough. A joke present for his birthday, an item of clothing covered in shrimps, because Daichi had been buying Suga jokes like this even before they’d become boyfriends. First there’d been a tee shirt, then pyjamas, a hat, another shirt, a scarf, another hat (this time a winter one that his grandma had knitted) – all items had the shrimp motif incorporated because once Daichi had overtaken Suga in height, he’d laughed louder and teased longer than Suga had ever teased him.

So, presenting him with underwear covered in shrimps and crayfish for Suga’s second birthday at college was sort of normal for them. Boxer shorts, silky boxers, not real silk, but the kind of synthetic fabric mass-produced underwear was made from for these novelty gifts. Designed – probably – to be worn once, laughed at then shoved to the back of the drawer and never worn again (unless it was a particularly bad laundry week).

But they did feel like silk, and Suga liked to touch things. He liked the feel, he’d once told Daichi, of objects around him. Fabrics and skin. The contrast of hard and soft, warmth and chill, sharp and blunt.

“Like the hard muscle here of your thigh,” he whispered, as his teeth nibbled, “contrasted with the soft...” He licked across Daichi’s leg and nuzzled his inner thigh, his tongue flicking upwards, punctuating his words. “Mmm, that’s right. The difference ... is ... fan ... tas ...tic.”

(He’d said something else, something about how he loved the rough of his hands, but Daichi’s mind was elsewhere.)

The boxers were bluey-green with pink shrimps on them. Daichi remained straight-faced as he handed them over as they had breakfast, and didn’t even blush when Suga opened them in front of Kuroo and Morisuke. Joke underwear, like a jokey tee shirt. No embarrassment there at all. Except, Suga’s slip of a pink tongue had poked through his pearl teeth and remained on his upper lip as he examined his present.

“Oh,” he’d murmured, his thumb feeling the leg hem, and then he’d thanked him with a wink and a really wide grin, before placing them by his side, demanding the next gift.

“I’ll take you out tonight, okay?” Daichi said, smattering a kiss on his cheek before he flew off for his early lecture. “Back at seven, yeah?”

“Mmm, where are we going?”

“Anywhere you want.” He glared at Kuroo. “And it’s just us. Okay?”

“Why would I want to crash your sappy date? Besides, Yaks and I are working the late shift at the cafe, so we won’t join you, even if you beg us.”

 

Arriving back just before seven, Daichi threw his bag in the corner, kicked off his shoes, and yelled a hello. “Decided where you want to go yet?”

“Yes,” Suga said, his voice floating through from the bedroom.

“Are you ready?”

“Uh –huh.”

“Just taking a shower, then we’ll go, okay?” he called.

“Mmm, don’t be long.”

“You hungry?”

“Mmm.”

The shower wasn’t as hot as Daichi liked, he assumed Kuroo, Morisuke and Suga had used up most of the water before he got back, but it was warm enough for him to lather up some shower gel and clean up. The gel smelt different, not his usual. Fresh, but faintly spicy. And now he looked at it, the bottle alongside wasn’t shampoo as he’d thought, but bath oil. He opened the top, inhaling the same scent, a hint of spice and musk, and faint lavender.

Rubbing his chin, he felt a few bristles coming through and debated shaving, but Suga said he liked the rasp, and shaving would mean they’d head out later.

“Okay, give me a minute to put some clothes on,” he said, entering the bedroom with a green towel wrapped around his waist, and another drying his hair. He stopped. “Oh ... I thought you were ready.”

Suga smiled up at him from under the covers of the bed. “I am,” he said, and peeled back one corner of the quilt.

“You don’t have any clothes on.”

“Incorrect. I am, in fact, wearing the present you bought me.”

“I ... uh ...” With a lopsided grin, Daichi stepped across to the bed, removing the quilt to reveal Suga wearing only the shrimp boxers. “I thought you were hungry.”

“I am,” he replied, and tugged at the towel. “Just not –“

“For food,” Daichi finished the joke. “You’re insatiable.”

“It’s my birthday, I’m allowed to be.” Suga tugged at the towel until it slipped from Daichi’s hips. “Well, hello there, Captain,” he murmured, and wet his pink lips, before pouting them Daichi’s stomach. His hand grasped his thigh, whilst his thumb slid between, caressing Daichi’s softer skin, until he was hard, erect, ready for whatever Suga desired.

“This is supposed to be _your_ birthday,” Daichi murmured, when Suga took him in his mouth, and then he groaned because Suga had edged his thumb to his anus, stabbing upwards. “Oh! Is that what you want?”

“Not sure, yet.” Suga smirked, and released him. He lay back on the bed, legs crossed at the ankles. His hand flitted to his stomach, one finger sliding down to the elasticated waist of the boxers. Daichi watched, expecting any second now, for Suga to wriggle them off, to crook his knees, and smile a welcome up to him.

Instead, his hand strayed over the silky fabric, pulling it taut, revealing an erection as hard as Daichi’s own. Fingertips began to caress, and only a small gasp from Suga enabled Daichi to wrench his eyes away to his face.  He was flushed, not quite making eye contact, and all the while, he was palming his crotch.

“Want a hand?” Daichi muttered. He sat on the edge of the bed, trailing his forefinger up Suga’s leg. “Or another, I mean.”

“S-sorry, I ...” Exhaling, Suga removed his hand, letting it drop to his side. His breathing became more regular, his eyes locked with Daichi’s.

“Hey,” Daichi whispered, and interlacing his fingers into Suga’s he nudged them upwards, “if you like doing that, then don’t let me stop you...”

“I like the way they feel,” he murmured, his reply sounding apologetic, shameful even. “Silk ... is so ... smooth.” His fingers splayed again, outlining the bulge with even more emphasis, and he tilted his head into the pillow, causing his back to arch, and thighs to quiver.

Bending his head down, Daichi slid his tongue under the waistband, licking the tip of Suga’s cock. He smelt of spice, and musk and lavender, the bath oil had been put to good use, moistening Suga’s skin to excite Daichi’s sense of smell, and touch, and taste. He closed his eyes, and increased the pressure of his lips, until he heard the familiar thrum in Suga’s throat, which meant he was ready to be sucked, or fucked - whatever he wanted.

Fumbling in the drawer for the lube and condoms, Daichi dropped them on Suga’s chest. He lifted his head, momentarily disengaging himself from Suga’s cock, and asked, “So ... birthday boy, what d’you fancy?”

Suga swallowed, incapable of much more than a moan, and peering down, Daichi saw he was still working himself, his hand grasping his cock over the fabric.

“Okay, so ... shall I?” Tucking his thumbs into the waistband, he tugged downwards, but Suga’s free hand plucked his wrist away.

“Fingers,” he muttered.

“Hmm?” Daichi grinned, knowing exactly what Suga wanted, but it was fun watching him flustered as he tried to articulate.

“Finger fuck me. First. But ....” He opened his eyes wide. “Leave the boxers on and uh ...”

Daichi slithered up the bed, turning Suga onto his side. His fingers now drenched in lube, he tucked them under the hem of the shorts, jabbing lightly, as Suga jerked next to him.

“Talk to me,” he muttered, and buried his face in Daichi’s neck.

“Sure.” He licked his lips, pressing them to Suga’s ear. “Now, we can do this very slowly...” He inserted his finger, up to the first knuckle. Suga wriggled closer and lifted his leg, sliding it up to Daichi’s knee.  “Or,” he continued, “I can speed things up.”

Suga pressed into him, his hand on not only his own cock, but rubbing at Daichi’s, too. He slid against him, up and down, as half moans and keens escaped in his breath. His upper thigh had reached Daichi’s torso, his knee angled up to his waist and he writhed as Daichi carried on, now inserting a second finger, scissoring inside him.

“Imagine we’re not here, Sug,” he whispered.  “We’re not in bed, but ...” He smiled into Suga’s shoulder, knowing one thing that got Suga off was the idea of being discovered.  “...shopping. And you have to be very, _very_ quiet because we’re in a changing room, and the assistant’s outside. You’re... uh ...”

“What?”

“Trying on jeans, and ... you want my opinion, so ...” He jabbed harder, Suga gasped, and his eyes flew open, staring unseeing at the ceiling.

“What happens?” he rasps.

“I don’t like them. They’re not ... uh ... _tight_ enough. So I strip them off you, and ... uh ...” He faltered.

“What am I wearing?” Suga jumped in.

_Uh..._

“Do you like them?”

 _OH!_ “Mmmhmm, they’re ... uh ... really ...” With his free hand, he cupped Suga’s arse through the shorts.

“Boxers, briefs ... or ...”

_Huh?_

Suga manoeuvred himself on top of Daichi, the silk of the boxers and his erection, urging Daichi onwards.

“What am I wearing?” Suga repeated.

“Silk,” Daichi moaned, because now he was the one losing it, and Suga, smiling down at him, had adjusted and was taking control.

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s ... oh fuck ... it’s so good.” In his mind, he was now in the changing room, Suga backed against the wall, Daichi hoisting him so his legs locked around his waist. He kissed Suga’s neck, rasping his chin against the satin of his skin, feeling his stomach tauten.

“Just silk?”

“N-no?” Daichi offered, and seeing a small tentative smile on Suga’s face, he ploughed on. “Satin? Linen? Uh ... lace?”

“Oh ... fuck yes.” Suga sat up, letting Daichi’s fingers work inside him, while he continued to move against his cock. And now he was the one talking, telling Daichi what he’d do in the changing room, how he’d brace himself against the wall and try so hard not to scream as Daichi fucked him hard, fucked him quick, fucked him while he was still wearing the silk and lace panties.

“Fuck- ing- hell!” Daichi grabbed Suga’s waist and pulled him down to his chest. They’re lips met, and then he came, quickly, messily, joyously, seconds after Suga.

“Best birthday ever,” Suga muttered, sounding dreamy.

 “You said that last year,” Daichi replied. He held Suga close, dropping a kiss onto his forehead. “Silk and lace, huh?”

He could feel Suga’s head shaking. “Forget I said that.”

 

But of course, now the idea had been floated, the seed planted, Daichi could not forget.

It was a few months later, there was no special reason, not an anniversary or birthday, but Daichi had some money in his wallet, having saved a little from the job he’d landed to supplement his student allowance. Suga had been stressed recently, his coursework taking its toll, and with Daichi now a regular on the volleyball team, alone time was at a premium. They shared a bedroom, true enough, but it was hardly quality time when both were tired and snappish.

“Can I help you?”

“Hmm?” he turned round to face the shop assistant, a twenty-something girl in a black and red uniform smiling blandly up at him. “Uh ... n-no, I’m just looking.”

“It’s all right, sir,” she said, sounding confident. “We get a lot of men in here buying gifts for their girlfriends.”

“Huh?”

“Lingerie,” she said, and dimpled a smile at him. “It’s a lovely present, as long as you put some thought into it.”

“Oh... I’ve done that,” he muttered. And then he gulped because he was standing in the middle of the women’s lingerie department and not the men’s where he’d originally planned to go. Another joke pair of boxers had been the intention, a small treat to make him laugh, yet Suga’s words from his birthday night had stuck in his mind ... silk and lace.  And men’s pants did not incorporate lace.

“What size is she?”

“Uh ... I don’t really know,” he muttered, and smiled pathetically. “He... uh ... she’s slim, and um flat-chested...” The assistant frowned, so he backtracked. “Um, small, I mean. Slim hips, and ... um ...”

“Waist?”

“Of course. OH!  You want the waist size. S-sorry, I don’t know. Smaller than me.”

“Mmm, good,” she murmured. “Do you have any idea about colour, or design?”

“Blue,” he said, hoping it didn’t sound as if he’d been thinking about this pretty obsessively this past week.  “Like a navy colour. I think that would look good.”

She smiled at him. “I can see you have taste, sir. So many men buy only red or black. They never think of their girlfriend’s colouring, at all. And to be quite honest, red and black can look so tacky. We often get the girls coming back to exchange for a more muted item.” Pausing she gestured to the far corner of the concession. “Midnight blue is a lovely idea. Hmm, and as you’re not entirely sire of size then how about something like this ...”

“Oh ... yeah, and ... uh ... that’s the same colour, so ...” He nodded, tried to hide his blush, then handed over the money. “Can you wrap them?”

“All part of the service, sir.” She smiled up at him, possibly finding it amusing that his hands were trembling, and then she touched his arm. “Your girlfriend is very lucky. You have exceptional taste.”

 

Suga was humming as he cooked when Daichi got home. He peered in from the hallway, watching as Suga reached up to the cupboard for more mirin, noticing the way the fabric of his jeans tautened over his bum when he stretched.

“What are you looking so pleased about?” he demanded, finally noticing Daichi lounging in the doorway.

“Hmm, just checking out my boyfriend’s ass. That’s allowed, isn’t it?” Daichi replied. He stepped closer, lightly touching Suga on the shoulder, before kissing his cheek. “I take it you’ve finished your course work.”

“Uh-huh, and sent it off, so no going back now,” he said, and wasted no time in flashing Daichi a wide, but vaguely apologetic smile. “Have I been awful to live with?”

He circled his hands round Suga’s waist, resting his chin in the crook of his neck. “Nah, you’re good. It’s about time I did my bit supporting you. Where are the others?”

Suga sighed, very deeply, and rolled his eyes ultra dramatically. “It’s a very sad story,” he said, “but they’re both out and ... I have no idea when they’ll be back, except it will be late.”

“Tragedy,” Daichi muttered, and turned him around in his arms. “How did you swing that?”

“Told them you were cooking,” Suga replied, giggling when Daichi scowled. “Actually I think my mood these past two weeks has been so bad, when I asked if they’d give us some space, they both leapt at the chance to leave you to your fate.”  He twisted back to the food, stirring with a spoon. “Food will be ready soon, and the rice is done.”

“’K.” He gave him a small peck, then released him. “Let me dump my stuff. Back in a bit.”

In the bedroom, he quickly stripped the bed and remade using the dark blue cotton pillowcases and sheets they had as spares. Of course, they weren’t ironed, but as he smoothed out the creases, he licked his lips in anticipation. There was something about the colour, and Suga’s hair - longer than it had been at school - spilling onto the pillows, that made Daichi think of stars. His pale limbs contrasting like moonbeams in the night sky.  He pulled out the gift from his bag, and all at once, a sheer wave of nervous tension crashed through him. What if he’d got this all wrong? What if the mention of lace really had been something he should forget, that Suga was not at all interested, that Daichi had misheard, that ... _Oh fuck I can’t go through with this._

“Hey, you’re taking your time. Oh ... what are you doing?”

“Uh ... nothing. Sheets needed changing, that’s all.”

“What is that you’re hiding from me?” he demanded.

“Nothing!” He stuffed the beribboned packet under his shirt. “Really, Sug, it’s nothing.”

“Really?”  Suga frowned, and held out his hand. “You’re looking guilty, Sawamura, so spill.”

Blushing far more furiously than he had in the store, Daichi hesitated, but there was no way he could hide this from Suga, not now, because Suga was as tenacious as a terrier, and his bite could be just as sharp, and far more acerbic.

“Uh ...” He produced the gift, his voice croaky as he stared at the black tissue paper, tied up with a red, shiny ribbon. “I ... um ... bought this. And it’s ... um ... Shit, it’s a really, really bad idea, and I don’t want you to... Oh, fuck, Suga, I’m sorry.”

Suga’s lips twitched. Reaching across he took the gift, then sat on the edge of the bed. Normally, when opening a present, he would tear off the wrapper, hating to wait, but now, peeping up at Daichi, he pulled slowly at the ribbon, letting it fall from the package. Then he unfurled the wisps of tissue paper and lifted out the midnight blue flare of silk with his fingers.

“Oh, Captain. What do you have in mind?”

Daichi swallowed. He watched as Suga examined the set – a camisole top and knickers trimmed with lace.

“You m-mentioned lace,” he croaked. “On your birthday, I mean.”

“Mmm, I did, and ...” Suga lifted the last item from the parcel. Also blue, also lacy, also sexy.  Panties, lace crotched, lacing up at the back with a bow and satin ribbons trailing. “ _You_ mentioned tight. I did wonder what you were getting at. These don’t leave much to the imagination, Dai.”  He pouted his lips, letting his tongue slip through his teeth. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble for something that might have been a slip of the tongue.”

He met Suga’s eyes, hoping the blush stealing across his cheeks wasn’t too obvious from where he stood.  “Shall I take them back? Do you mind?”

Suga blinked. “That my boyfriend listens and remembers. Why would I mind?” He chuckled. “Daichi, there’s a reason those shrimp boxers have had a lot of use and are falling apart, don’t you think?”

“You like the way they feel.”

“And _you_ like the way they make me feel.” He grinned slyly. “You love watching, too, admit it.”

His breath caught. Suga had started to undress, his fingers flipping open the buttons on his jeans - his tight jeans. The ones he had to wriggle out of. “Go and turn that pan off. We’ll eat later,” he ordered.

But Daichi hesitated, turning when he reached the door.

“Go, on,” Suga murmured. His hands, which had been tugging off the trousers, stopped moving. “If you’re back quickly, I’ll let you do the rest.”

 


End file.
